Bastien is permitted his examination. Here, Ellis' hand. Minor speckling of blood, poorly healed fingers, scuffs and scars and knicks that predate this evening and have yet to heal, have healed and left a raised mark, have healed and left a white line—
It is a small collection, comparatively. And the marks much make sense; Ellis is a melee fighter, wields a large, spiked mace. Of course people struck at his knuckles to try and prevent him using it.
"I would like it better if you never saw one."
They are joking, Ellis knows. But it is hard to joke, even about the possibility of a grimy, malnourished darkspawn in a cage. Bars break. Locks fail.
His opposite hand reaches over, seeking the cigarette where it has been clenched in Bastien's jaws. Share.
no subject
It is a small collection, comparatively. And the marks much make sense; Ellis is a melee fighter, wields a large, spiked mace. Of course people struck at his knuckles to try and prevent him using it.
"I would like it better if you never saw one."
They are joking, Ellis knows. But it is hard to joke, even about the possibility of a grimy, malnourished darkspawn in a cage. Bars break. Locks fail.
His opposite hand reaches over, seeking the cigarette where it has been clenched in Bastien's jaws. Share.